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Understanding of Karl Marx
Marx’s theories by his own admission are historically conditioned. They could have arisen only at a stage in social history where the dominant mode of production divides society, in the main, into two classes: those whose income is derived from the sale of their labour-power, and those whose income, in the form of profit, interest and rent, flows from their legal ownership of the social instruments of production. Not only are Marx’s theories historically conditioned, they are also class conditioned in that they offer a survey of social life and a plan of social action in the interests of the international proletariat. But what does it mean to offer a survey in the interests of anything but the truth? To link truths, which are presumably general, objective and necessary, with class interests, which are limited, particular and subjective, is to create a chain of paradoxes. Marx certainly denied that economics, history and philosophy stand as impartial disciplines above the class struggle. Nor did he exclude his own theories. Speaking of his Capital (A Critique of Political Economy) he says:
So far as such criticism represents a class, it can only represent the class whose function in history is the overthrow of the capitalist mode of production and the final abolition of all classes – the proletariat. [1]
His followers over the world refer to Marxism as a class theory. In what sense, then, is it an objective theory? Are its propositions relative truths dependent upon presuppositions which may legitimately be challenged from other class points of view? If so, what becomes of their objectivity?
I: Objectivity and Presupposition: The question of objectivity and presupposition is the most difficult one in the social sciences. Marx attempted to solve it by the use of the dialectical method. He believed that his theories were true. But what did he mean by a true theory? ‘The question whether human thought can arrive at objective truth is not a question of theory’, he writes, ‘but a practical question. In practice man must prove the truth of thought.’ [2] Suppose we examine, from this point of view, the traditional definition of truth against which Marx, together with Hegel, directed his shafts; viz, that a true idea is one which reflects or corresponds with the external environment. In order to discover whether our ideas are true, we must act on them. In acting on them we change the external environment. The true idea, then, is one which is validated by the outcome of the interaction between our practical activity, which expresses the meaning of the idea, and the external object, which calls it forth. To be sure, in order to know how to act we must have some antecedent knowledge. But the reliability of that knowledge, again, can only be ascertained in practice. Whatever cannot be tested in action is dogma. But since, as the result of the activity of testing, some change has been introduced in the objective situation which we seek to know, the correspondence between idea and thing must be regarded as prospective, not retrospective.
Important consequences follow, if we bear in mind the distinction which Marx makes between the subject-matter of the physical sciences and the social and historical sciences. All human history is the result of the behaviour of men on behalf of certain ends, values or purposes. Theories of history and society are themselves historical, that is, they are offered on behalf of some value or purpose which enters as an important factor in determining what information is relevant or irrelevant to the problem in hand. In so far as these theories claim to be knowledge they involve setting up activities in social life, that is, the introduction of those changes which are necessary for their experimental confirmation. In so far as they are offered on behalf of some purpose, they involve setting up changes in a certain direction. The direction in which we desire to travel determines the aspects of the existing scene to which we are attentive, the information we seek, the experiments we perform – in short, the criteria of relevance. Depending, then, upon the different ends or values on behalf of which theories have been projected, different modes of social action will be proposed. But in a class society, according to Marx, there can be no unanimity about the direction or goal which social organisation should take. Different class interests express themselves in different goals.
To be sure, the possible goals that may be taken are always limited or conditioned by the state of the productive forces of society. But a choice is always possible, even if it be no more than one between the continuation of society or its destruction. The choices made by different classes are revealed in the social theories they accept. These social theories may contain a considerable amount of objective truth but from the point of view of one class the truths discovered by the other may be irrelevant. It would perhaps be more accurate to say that any social theory – the test of whose truth would involve a change in the existing property-relations or balance of class forces – will be denounced as a dangerous untruth by the class in power. That is why no true social experiment is possible in class society. As distinct from the experiment in the physical sciences, the criteria by which its success is judged will vary with the economic interests of the class which passes judgement. It is only in a metonymous sense that the Russian Revolution can be regarded as a social experiment. Those whom it swept from power, as well as their allies throughout the world, regarded the ‘experiment’ as a failure when the first expropriatory decree was issued.
To say that knowing initiates a course of action which changes some aspect of the situation from which we set out; to say further that social knowledge is a guide to action on behalf of certain ends or values, and that the action becomes a factor in realising the future state of affairs about which it professes to have the truth – all this does not imply that the casual connections which exist in the world of nature and history are created by men. This would mean subjectivism. The social laws which obtain in a capitalist economy, and the laws which obtain in a socialist economy, are not created by man; but whether the conditions are to exist, under which one or another type of law operates at certain historic moments, depends upon class will and activity. To deny this is to maintain that the laws of social life have the character of laws of nature. This expressed the pseudo-objectivism of the laissez faire economists, who, desiring to prevent the imposition of legal curbs upon the predatory expansion of capitalism, spoke of the laws of economics as natural necessities in order to deduce the convenient maxim that the government which interfered least was the best.
Marx’s materialistic approach to problems of social development was always oriented with reference to his class allegiance and class revolutionary goal. That did not make his conclusions less objective, but it made them partial in their bearings and implications. Marx contended that all social thought, whether objective or not – especially when it became the ‘accepted truth’ of its day – was similarly partial. On several occasions he suggests that ‘purely objective’ descriptions of the social scene – even when they are true – have a tendency to degenerate into an apologia of the conditions they describe. This can be overcome only by inquiring into the possibility that these conditions may be changed by class activity. He was frank in his belief that every description of the social process must be completed by an evaluation. Judgements of fact as such are not judgements of value; but where the facts concern conflicts of class interests, Marx believed that no one could escape the necessity of passing a judgement of value upon them. And whoever refused to do so, from Marx’s point of view, had therewith taken a position by virtue of the objective consequences of his refusal.
In an interesting passage, Lenin sharpens a distinction between the ‘objectivist’ and the ‘materialist’ which is quite faithful to Marx’s meaning:
The objectivist speaks of the necessity of a determinate historical process, while the materialist makes an exact investigation of the given socio-economic complex and the antagonistic relations which it produces. The objectivist, who tries to show the necessity of a determinate series of facts, continually runs the risk of degenerating to an apologist of these facts; the materialist lays bare the class oppositions upon which he proceeds to take a stand. The objectivist speaks of ‘irrefragable historical tendencies’; the materialist speaks of the class which ‘dominates’ the given economic order and therewith calls forth determinate forms of opposition on the part of other classes. The materialist is therefore more consistent than the objectivist and manifests a deeper, completer objectivism. He does not restrict himself to indicating the bare necessity of the process but reveals what social and economic complex gives this process content, what class determines this necessity... In addition, materialism involves a definite taking of sides in that it feels itself bound, when it evaluates events, to accept openly and clearly the standpoint of a definite social group. [3]
Like Marx Lenin also denied that it was possible to keep strictly neutral in analysing the facts of class relationships and struggle. It is ‘the whole man’ who knows. Although we must not let our values ‘cook’ the facts – which is more easily avoided by recognising our values than by pretending we haven’t any – our values determine what facts we are looking for, and what we are going to do with them after we have found them. Arguing against those social scientists who proclaimed that it was unseemly for a student of class relationships to sympathise with one class or another, that it was his ‘duty’ not to take sides, Lenin wrote:
It is absurd in this connection even to speak of the duty not to take sides, for no living man, once he has understood the relationships and struggles between classes, can prevent himself from embracing the standpoint of one class or the other, exulting in its triumphs, lamenting in its defeats, becoming indignant with those who are hostile to it, and who retard its development by propagating mistaken views. [4]
Despite these passages, it would be completely misleading to speak, as some Marxists do, of class truths. Truth is above classes. What is meant is usually one of two things. Either that classes find it to their interest to discover or call attention to some truths and to conceal other truths; or that the real subject of discourse is class values, not class truths. In the first case, the truth or falsity of a proposition is utterly irrelevant to the class which discovers it; in the second, values cannot be characterised as true or false, and it is obvious nonsense to say that one value is ‘truer’ than another when all that is meant is that a value is ‘more inclusive’ or ‘intenser’ – or simply that it is ours.
The relationship between the class presupposition of Marxism and its claims to objective truth is sufficiently important to justify a restatement of the position from a different point of view. As a result of private ownership of the means of production, class struggles arise over the distribution of the social product. This struggle manifests itself not only on the economic field but in the realms of politics and culture as well. Each class develops ideals and programmes of activity which, if acted upon, would involve loss, hardship or oppression for opposing classes. It develops a philosophy, a social and historical outlook which are congenial to its present role in the processes of production and to the role it desires to play in the future. It gathers facts and conducts analyses to justify its claims and to achieve its aims. Its doctrines cannot be impartial, for they express resolutions as well as descriptions, and therefore determine a course of social activity whose effects are prejudicial to one class in direct proposition as they are favourable to another.
Marxism, as the theory and practice of social revolution, is the class theory of the proletariat. In this sense it is a ‘partial’ or ‘partisan’ theory without ceasing to be an objective expression of the interests of the proletariat. But whether the consequences of acting upon it will really achieve the classless society – that can be tested without further reference to class interests. Here Marxism is either true or false. In taking note of the conditions which must be fulfilled to achieve the classless society, in its descriptions of tendencies which render revolutionary action timelier, more likely to succeed, etc, it again lays down propositions whose truth or falsity is independent of class interest. For example, the doctrine expressed in the preceding paragraph that class conflicts give rise to conflicting ideologies is such a proposition. To accept this particular doctrine or any other does not make one a Marxist unless one accepts the class purposes which make these propositions relevant.
II: Is the Social Revolution ‘Inevitable’? Let us test this exposition upon an important practical question – indeed, the central one of the socialist movement, viz, what does the advent of socialism depend upon? For one thing, upon the existence of large-scale, highly-centralised production which is the result of the accumulation of capital. But obviously this is only a necessary not a sufficient condition. For the facts of centralisation and concentration in industry are recognised even by bourgeois governments, which, although inexorably opposed to revolution, have obligingly furnished the statistical figures from the days of Marx down to the present. The existence of a class-conscious proletariat is just as indispensable as any of the foregoing conditions. What does it, in turn, depend upon? On the need and want produced in the course of the economic process. How much need and want? Can these be accurately measured in any way? Certainly not. But assuming that they can be, are they as inevitably produced, and produced in the same way, as industrial centralisation and financial concentration? And does this need, in turn, inevitably express itself in revolutionary action? Merely to put these questions is to see the absurdity of the assumptions involved. For if these propositions were true, there would be no necessity to enunciate them, no less to risk one’s life for them. Certain relatively independent factors enter into the situation. The degree of enlightenment of the workers; what it is that they regard as fundamental needs; ‘the consciousness of the class struggle and not alone its existence’; the presence of a political party which represents the principle of revolutionary continuity from one crisis to another – all these must be taken into account. They are not automatic, simple functions of economic development; for, as we shall see later, they are capable of initiating, within limits, important changes in the economic order. Neither God, man nor the economic process guarantees the final validity and certainty of communism. Only the objective possibilities are given. Whether they are realised is a political question. Economic development determines only the general period in which communism is possible, not the specific time of actual transition. ‘England possesses all the necessary material conditions of social revolution’, wrote Marx to Kugelmann in 1870, ‘what it lacks is universal outlook and revolutionary passion.’ [5]
Marx counts upon need, or rather consciousness of need, to supply the active force in social change. But, as we have already seen, it is not biological need which determines the path and means of action. It is a social and ethical need. It is not those who are most brutalised by physical want who are the most revolutionary; but rather those who are most conscious of the disparity between the objective possibilities of material and cultural life, and what they actually realise in their experience:
A house may be large or small, but as long as the surrounding houses are equally small, it satisfies all social requirements of a dwelling place. But let a palace arise by the side of this small house, and it shrinks from a house to a hut. The smallness of the house now indicates that its occupant is permitted to have either very few claims or none at all; and however high it may shoot up with the progress of civilisation, if the neighbouring palace shoots up also in the same or greater proportion, the occupant of the comparatively small house will always find himself more uncomfortable, more discontented, confined within his four walls ...
Although the comforts of the labourer have risen, the social satisfaction which they give has fallen in comparison with these augmented comforts of the capitalist, which are attainable for the labourer, and in comparison with the scale of the general development society has reached. Our wants and their satisfaction have their origin in society: we therefore measure them in relation to society, and not in relation to the objects which satisfy them. Since their nature is social, it is therefore relative. [6]
The consequences we have drawn from these observations may appear commonplace. Yet the history of the Second International reveals how important commonplaces sometimes are. We are now in a position to understand what Marx really means when he speaks of the historic inevitability of communism. Communism is not something fated to be realised in the nature of things; but, if society is to survive, communism offers the only way out of the impasse created by the inability of capitalism, despite its superabundance of wealth, to provide a decent social existence for its own wage-earners. What Marx is really saying is: either this (communism) or nothing (barbarism). That is why communists feel justified in claiming that their doctrines express both the subjective class interests of the proletariat and the objective interests of civilisation. The objectivity of Marxism is derived from the truth of the disjunction; the subjectivity, from the fact that this is chosen rather than nothing. Normally a recognition of the truth of the disjunction carries with it a commitment to communism. But the connection is not a necessary one any more than the knowledge that milk is a wholesome drink makes one a milk drinker. One might accept the economic analyses of Marx, recognise the existence of the class struggle, and apply historical materialism to the past. That does not make him a Marxist. Bourgeois thinkers have done so since Marx’s day, and some even before. It is only when one accepts the first term of the disjunction – which is a psychological, and, if you please, an ethical act – that he has a right to the name. [7] The choice is intelligent only if it takes note of Marx’s analyses; but once the choice is made, it itself becomes an historical factor in making the revolutionary ideal come true. How else can we explain why Marx’s philosophy is itself an historical force in the world today, or understand his remark that ‘of all the instruments of production the greatest productive power is the revolutionary class itself’? [8] The objective truth of Marxism realises itself in the informed revolutionary act. Marxism is neither a science nor a myth, but a realistic method of social action.
1. Karl Marx, Capital, Volume 1. – MIA
2. Karl Marx, Theses on Feuerbach. – MIA
3. Quoted by Deborin, in his article Lenin als Revolutionärer Dialektiker, Unter dem Banner des Marxismus, Band I, p. 213 [V.I. Lenin, The Economic Content of Narodism and the Criticism of it in Mr Struve’s Book, Collected Works, Volume 1 – MIA].
4. Quoted by Ivan Luppol, Lenin und die Philosophie: zur Frage des Verhältnisses der Philosophie zur Revolution (Berlin 1929), p. 144. [We have been unable to locate this quotation in Lenin’s Collected Works. – MIA]
5. Karl Marx, Confidential Communication on Bakunin. – MIA
6. Karl Marx, Wage, Labour and Capital (Kerr edition), pp. 35–36.
7. ‘The theory of class war was not created by Marx, but by the bourgeoisie before Marx and is for the bourgeoisie, generally speaking, acceptable. The one who recognises only the class war is not yet a Marxist; that one may be found not to have freed himself from the chains of bourgeois reasoning and politics. To limit Marxist theory to the teaching of the class war means to shorten Marxism – to mutilate it, to bring it down to something which is acceptable to the bourgeoisie. A Marxist is one who extends the recognition of class war to the recognition of the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. In this is the main difference between a Marxist and an ordinary bourgeois. On this grindstone it is necessary to test a real understanding and recognition of Marxism.’ (V.I. Lenin, The State and Revolution (Vanguard Press, 1926), p. 141) [V.I. Lenin, The State and Revolution, Collected Works, Volume 25. – MIA]
8. Karl Marx, The Poverty of Philosophy. – MIA
Last updated: 20 February 2020